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nothing could happen, unless Sir Hugh le Despenser was in favour. He was the most powerful man, save only the king.
    And any who upset him would suffer dire consequences.
    ‘It would be dangerous to try to harm a man with such connections,’ the dean said quietly.
    ‘The man who has lost his wife – is he important?’ the bishop asked after a moment.
    ‘No. His name is Alured de Gydie. A man of no significance.’
    ‘So he has no power to fetch his woman back?’
    ‘None whatsoever. He is a cooper – a man of some skill, I understand – but not rich.’
    ‘And his woman – she is still held by the rector?’
    ‘Yes.’
    The bishop drummed his hands on his table. ‘The Despenser is a rich and dangerous opponent.’
    ‘Yes, my lord.’
    ‘So we should act swiftly. Bring the rector here. If the ransom is lost, it will go evil with that fellow! I will
not
have priests in my diocese acting in such a high-handed manner, and I do not care who his friends are. If the sheriff wishes to complain, he can come and speak with me. I shall have some choice words for him if he tries to protect a brother who is so steeped in wrongdoing that he thinks he may steal a man’s wife and defile her. In Christ’s name, I will
not
tolerate such behaviour! Go and fetch him to my gaol, Dean.’
    ‘With pleasure, my lord bishop.’
    ‘And Dean?’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Do not forget, my friend, I know Despenser very well. He is crafty and dangerous – but so am I!’

Chapter Four
Exeter
    He had to visit it, just so that he could say later that he had seen the place. And now, sitting in the tavern, Roger Crok wondered why it had seemed so important to come here and try to bring home to the bishop how his offences had hurt so many. The man was incapable of human emotions. He had proved that already.
    Bishop Walter II was a massively powerful man. He was second only to Despenser and the king in wealth and prestige. Somehow, walking to the cathedral and seeing it in that half-reconstructed state, had brought home to Roger Crok just how great this bishop truly was. It made his rage against the man seem pointless; someone with such authority was impregnable in his palace. The man was there trying to rebuild the great church in this city, responsible for vast sums of money, commanding hundreds of men for his own protection – he was surely far beyond Roger Crok’s feeble attempts to hurt him.
    Still, he must try. The bishop had been the cause of so much harm in recent years, to all in the country. It was not only Roger himself and his mother Isabella who had suffered. No, his stepfather was as much a victim as any other, even if it had not been the bishop who had seen to his death, because the bishop had maltreated Henry Fitzwilliam’s widow and stolen her lands from her. That made him utterly contemptible. To rob a widow was the act of a felon, a paltry draw-latch; he was a man of no honour.
    But it was more than that to Roger. Now that his mother had seen her little manors stolen from her, entirely to satisfy this intolerable bishop’s greed, and at the same time Roger himselfhad been declared outlaw, it was not enough that the bishop should be fought in courts. He ought to have the depth of his crimes brought home to him. And that was why Roger was here, to make sure that the bishop was tormented in the same manner as his mother.
    Roger called for another pot of cider and drank deeply. The drink flowed into his blood like liquid fire, and soon his fingers had recovered their feeling, his face felt hot from the great fire in the hearth in the middle of the room, and his temper became more sanguine.
    The bishop might do some little good here in Exeter, but that meant nothing. It was Roger Crok’s task to make him suffer, and in God’s name, in God’s good time, he would see Walter Stapledon endure the torments of the devil, if he could.

Bishop’s Palace, Exeter
    Once he was alone again, the bishop left his hall and walked to his private